MicroblogMondays: A Daughter That We Lost


When we received the PGS results, I deliberately asked Dr. E not to disclose the information on the sex of the embryos.  I would rather wait to be surprised at birth.

This is so unlike me.  Given my personality as somebody who would like to be in control of many things, my desires all my life had been to find out at our 20-week ultrasound if we were going to have a boy or a girl.  This long and difficult fertility journey has changed my mind.  I just want to keep one surprise in this process.  The sex of our baby will have to be it.

Bob really wanted to know.  I told him to ask Dr. E himself but made him promise not to share with me.  I think the task of keeping information from me is just too monumental for him.  He decided not to even go near that subject.

Now that the implanted embryo has failed to grow in our gestational carrier Annie, I suddenly had this strong urge to find out if it was meant to be a boy or a girl.

As the title suggests, Dr. E revealed that it was a female embryo.

A daughter.




I honestly do not have a preference for either sex, but growing up, I did always envision having a baby girl.

But now that this daughter is no longer with us, it just feels like there is a huge hole in my heart that cannot be filled.

Out of the last four transfers and my own two chemical pregnancies, we never had a chance to confirm if we had lost a boy or a girl.  This is the first time that we could definitely say that we had a daughter.

Knowing the sex of this embryo may help bring closure.  It may not.  But I am very glad that we found out.

When I shared about this, one of my dearest friends gave me a song.  She translated this song from Hebrew to English for me.  The following are the lyrics:

On [the subject of] the honey, and on the thorns,

On the bitter and the sweet,

On our daughter, my baby, guard her, My Lord, for good.

On the fire that burns, on the water pure and clear,

On the man returning home after a long journey.

On all these things,

Guard me please, my Lord for my good.

For the honey and the thorns,

For the bitter with the sweet.

This is the video:

I was already touched when I read the lyrics.  I teared up when I read the words “Our daughter, my baby, guard her, My Lord, for good”.

But I didn’t know that more was to come.

The next morning, I woke up and found a video that this friend sent to me.  It was a video of her that she recorded that morning for me.  In the video, she told me that she had a gift for me, that it was bitter gift, but it was a gift for her during a very dark time in her life.  She sang this song for two weeks after her nephew passed away, as it brought her comfort.  She personally sang this Hebrew song to me and recorded it in this video.  Her beautiful singing and her love for me brought me to tears.  This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received in my life.

The very same day, this same friend wrote about our loss in her blog post. The last sentence she wrote: “Goodnight my sweet little girl.  I’m sorry that we didn’t have a chance to meet.”

Cue waterworks.

My dear friend managed to move me to tears three times in two days.

Bob and I decided to no longer call this lost embryo Max.  We wanted to give her a proper name.  After much thinking and searching, we decided to name her Mira, which means “ocean” or “sea”.  Given our love for the ocean and how being in its presence brings us comfort and healing every time we lost a pregnancy or an embryo, it is fitting for us to commemorate our embryo with a name with a meaning near and dear to us.

One of the songs during worship on Sunday was “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” by Hillsong United.  The lyrics really spoke to me:

You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown where feet may fail

And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand

Will be my guide

Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me

You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

So I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

It reminds me that even when we are knee-deep in the ocean waves (our pain/suffering/impossible circumstances), the Lord will sustain us in our faith and His sovereign hand will be our guide.  It is not a coincidence that after we gave our daughter this name that means ocean, the  same theme came up in a song that touches me. 

Mira, our daughter.  We will miss you forever.  May our faith be sustained and we keep our eyes above the ocean waves.  May we persevere so that we will see your sibling(s) face-to-face one day.


MicroblogMondays: Self Care


Last Friday marked the day after we confirmed that our 5th transfer has failed.  The feeling is so familiar yet different.  We are used to failure.  It is a sad thing to say, but we are.  We know how to handle ourselves when it comes to failed transfers.  We know that we will be sad and devastated for a bit and we will be over it.  And we will move forward again.  But then, this time is also so different.  We have given this transfer the best embryo with the best grade and score and the best uterus that we could provide ever.  It was supposed to be a foolproof formula.

But it wasn’t.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude for having Jesus in my heart.  Without Jesus, I don’t know where my hope would lie.  But like one of my readers said, it is okay to be sad.  And I was sad.  At one point, I had fear and doubt in my head and my heart.  December is the end of the 5th year of our journey.  It was highly possible and probable that by the end of the year, we would be expecting a miracle in 2017.  Except that it didn’t happen.  And I was wondering if this is God’s message to me that a child is not in our future.  But I decided to once again not jump to conclusion as God is the only one who knows His plan.  This is the time for me and Bob to exercise our trust and faith in Him, knowing that regardless of the outcome of our quest, He is going to provide for us.

With that understanding, I tried what I could to take care of myself.

Fortunately, Friday was Veteran’s day.  It was a day off for me.  I opened my eyes with peace in my heart.  I am always thankful for the peace and strength that God gives me, as it is not a given and is not something that I take for granted.  In my pajamas, I made south Indian filtered coffee, sat there, and wrote my last blog post without even brushing my teeth or washing my face.  I just needed that quiet, alone space to feel and to let everything sink in.  Order in my life always makes me feel better.  After a couple of hours of chores cleaning the floor, changing the bedsheets, and tidying up any mess, I felt more control about the situation again.  That evening, Bob and I spent time with some of our best friends.  Their kids are our favorite kids.  Just enjoying the time with them brought about tremendous healing.

This is what self care is all about.  Being aware of what makes you happy and doing it.

I just started watching the show “Parenthood” on Netf.lix.  In one of the episodes, the younger brother, a playboy, just discovered that he had a son with an old fling.  He went to seek the advice from his older brother who happened to be a family man with two children.  He asked his older brother about having children,

“What makes all of it worth it?”

His brother said, “What makes it worth it is the connection.  It’s a bond you feel.  They are yours, you know.  You are part of them.”

I so long for this connection, this bond that I will have with my future child.  Regardless of the genetic links or who is going to carry the baby, my child is going to be mine.  He/she is going to be part of me and I am going to be a part of him/her.

It is all going to be worth it.

MicroblogMondays: Sadness is…

deleting all the reminders of PIO injections and replacement of estrogen patches on my Goo.gle calendar

removing Kevin the embryo’s photo from the fridge and putting it in a folder

seeing that Christmas cards of friends’ children have replaced Kevin’s photo in the prime spot of the fridge

running my hands on the areas made tender by the progesterone injections

feeling the subsiding soreness of those once-tender spots

looking in the mirror and seeing the faded “permanently-marked” circles for injections on my back that no longer need any re-marking

seeing the deflated hot water heating pad that has been untouched in the last three days

spotting the box of syringes, sharps container, and meds I kicked under my nightstand

reaching for the pads in the drawer that I thought I would say good-bye to for a while, but now are needed because of AF’s arrival

opening the freezer and seeing the ice pack that I had been using to ice the injection sites

touching the itchy rectangular residue from the estrogen patches that are no longer required for my lower abdominal area

tearing up while cutting open the Am.azon box and touching the panda hooded towel that is going to be my baby shower gift for my super pregnant supervisor

seeing the date knowing that we are approaching the end of our 48th month trying for a baby

closing my eyes at night having Kevin’s picture vividly in my mind

feeling heartbroken waking up at the crack of dawn losing this pregnancy



… but, it’s okay to be sad.

And I will be okay.


The Last Three Days – The Healing Begins

Monday December 7, 2015

Beta day.  I didn’t sleep well the night before.  It was the first night I had a hard time falling asleep during the two-week wait.  I got up at 6:15 and was out the door by 7:05.  I wasn’t particularly nervous, strangely.  I prayed for strength, peace, and calmness on the way.  At the lab, the wait wasn’t long.  I was in and out within 15 minutes.  The phlebotomist told me that the results would come back within two hours, and most likely wouldn’t show up online because this particular test is usually labeled “confidential”.  So it sounded like most likely I would have to call to find out.  How was I feeling?  I was half hopeful and half expecting the worst.

After I saw my 9am client (who I saw about ten minutes early so I was done ten minutes early), I checked online and didn’t see any results.  Just then and there, at 9:44, exactly two hours after my blood draw, I received a new message from my OB/GYN.  I opened it and saw this:

Your BHCG just came back and is 10. This is not negative but is very low (could be negative on a home test).  I would talk with your IVF doctor about this value. You will need to get another one drawn in 2 days to see if it has gone up or down.”

My mind drew a blank.  I didn’t expect to see a low number.  I expected either a decent number or a zero.  Somehow, I didn’t prepare myself for a low beta.  I remember telling Bob the other day that I’d rather it be zero than a chemical pregnancy.  He asked me why because to him, it makes no difference.  I don’t know why.  I know that people say that it’s a good thing to know that I can get pregnant, but the possibility of the embryo trying and not being able to sustain life inside me is a big heart break for me.  I suspect that beta was probably a bit higher a few days ago, and started to drop on 12dp5dt already.

I am very thankful for my OB/GYN, someone that I have never met in person.  My previous OB, with whom I also had never met, left the practice so I got assigned to this new OB.  She has been more than helpful and caring.  She ordered my beta for me STAT, returns my emails promptly, and answers any questions that I may have.  She told me already that this week she would be out of the office and told me to call the advice nurse.  I didn’t expect her to write me an email personally so quickly.

When I read the message, I was sitting in my dark office as a parent was observing my colleague’s therapy session from an observation window next to my desk.  I searched for my cell phone, walked next door to my empty therapy room, and gave Bob a call.  He had an intuition that I would call him before 10am so he waited for my phone call.  I told him what happened.  Bless his heart.  My husband was calm and said that, Okay we’ll talk tonight and we will regroup.  We hung up.

I went back to my office initially feeling okay.  I think the shock hadn’t reached my brain and my heart yet.  I sat there and started updating people.  I emailed my nurse and asked if I could stop all the meds as well as when I could see my RE to discuss what happened this cycle.  I have so many questions for him.  Unfortunately, I was instructed to continue all the meds and get a second beta on Wednesday.  My nurse offered me an appointment to see my RE on Wednesday at 9:30.  I had a client scheduled for that time and I also had my presentation for pregnant ladies scheduled for noon.  It was just impossible to take that appointment without moving things around.  So I declined.

After that, I stared at my computer screen for another hour not being able to think.  Sitting alone in my office trying to prepare for my clients for the afternoon, I was on the verge of tears.  I just didn’t know how I could sustain myself through the afternoon.  All I wanted to do was to see my husband and hug him.  So I made a decision to take care of myself.  I asked my front desk staff to cancel all the kids in the afternoon, packed my bags, and left work.

I started tearing up in the elevator.  By the time I got to the garage, tears came down.  I cried and cried when I pulled out of the driveway at work.  When I got home, I sat in the car in my driveway howling aloud.  I needed to cry.  And I did.  I just didn’t think that I could hold it in until night time.

Seeing Bob’s face was the best thing that happened to me on Monday.  I love my husband.  Despite being sad and angry himself, he always has a way of cheering me up during crisis.  Every time tragedy strikes, I realize once again that I married the best life partner one could ask for.  For that I am grateful.   We enjoyed a nice, quiet lunch together.  I was glad that the results came back so early that I could leave and get together with him.  He told me that he was dazed and heartbroken after he got my phone call, but still had to get himself together to drive down to work.  I really felt for him.  His dream of holding his own baby is once again delayed.  I would be angry too.  But he put himself and his feelings aside and took care of my feelings first.  I am very grateful for him.

The rest of the day, I was by myself and was having all sorts of emotions: disbelief, anger, disappointment, devastation, loneliness.  I knew that the best place to be would be in prayers and to be in God’s comfort.  However, I just couldn’t.  On this one day, I could not come to God.  I could not acknowledge Him.  I could not talk to Him.  I could not pray.  I was angry.  Why is our journey so hard?  I have no answers.  Nobody will have an answer for us.  But I still ask.

Bob told me to start thinking about what to do if Lucy doesn’t work out, that we should start looking into another donor.  He and I believe that we’ll be parents some day.  Just not today.  That night, I wrote the new donor coordinator at the clinic (as the former person with whom I dealt left the job already).  I got the answer that 1) our donor still has a batch of frozen eggs available and 2) I could be put back on the waitlist for a donor in which we were interested for a fresh cycle.

I have so many questions for Dr. No Nonsense, my RE.  Why did our cycle turn out like this, with one day 5 early blastocyst and only one day 6 blastocyst left?  Why didn’t the embryos develop well on day three?  Was it because of the sperm?  The eggs being frozen?  Did my donor have this kind of fertilization report and blastocyst rate during her previous fresh and frozen cycles?  Or our pure bad luck?  Are there any other tests necessary to check Bob’s sperm?  Is it my uterus?  Can we do anything differently next time to better prepare my lining?  Is it a good idea to purchase the my donor’s second batch of eggs so that if Lucy works out, we can have some frozen embryos for a chance of full biological siblings?

So many questions.  But no appointment.  At night, I tried to make arrangement to reschedule my Wednesday morning client in case the 9:30am was still open.  My client’s mom was willing to switch, but the time slot with Dr. NN was already gone.   I still don’t have an appointment set up.

Then I got an email, which came at the worst timing ever.  My coworker who organized my boss’ surprise baby shower for Tuesday, December 8th, the day that I planned on taking off, updated in an email saying that since my boss was sick on Monday and would possibly still be sick on Tuesday, the baby shower had been postponed to the following Tuesday, December 15th.

I almost cursed aloud.  That means that I still have to find another excuse not to be around for the baby shower next week.

It is simply not my day, my week, my month, or my year.

I was supposed to go lead my bible study group at night.  I just simply couldn’t.  So I called out sick as well.  Instead of going, I made dinner.  Cooking is such a saving grace when life is simply too much to bear.  Standing there chopping and stirring was the most meaningful thing of the day.

Watching TV with Bob, I cried a few more times.  Knowing that this was a chemical pregnancy, the injection of progesterone was the most meaningless thing ever.  But Bob had the best attitude.  He said, let’s do it and give this embryo a chance.  And we did.

With my eyes closed, I was able to pray for the first time on that day.  Luckily, I fell asleep easily.


Tuesday December 8, 2015

However, I did wake up at 2:45am thinking about this pregnancy and failed cycle and couldn’t fall back asleep.  I thank God for my friends who are online into the wee hours (because they are on the East Coast and are up already).  Maddie was there to keep me company.  Then I tried to go back to sleep at 3am.

Taking a day off the day after beta one was the best decision ever, even before I knew I needed it.

After dropping Bob off at the train station at around 7:45, I went back home and lay in bed again.  This overwhelming sadness came upon me.  I wailed and wailed.  I knew I was safe to do that as nobody was around.  It was so heartwrenching to learn that a life was dying inside of me.  And I don’t have a reason for it.  There is no way to know if the embryo was euploid or not.  It was no way to know if it was because of my uterine environment.  There was nothing I could do.  This felt so helpless.  My baby’s life is my baby’s life, and its death signifies something important.  That this is the second time that I couldn’t keep a life alive.  How devastating is this?

I was really in no shape or form to go to work.  The abundance of vacation days is God’s gift for me to take care of myself.

After a bowl of my favorite ramen, I situated myself at my favorite coffee shop.  I ordered my first cup of latte in a long time.  Then I opened up my bible study lesson and prayed.  I was so glad that my bitterness and anger slowly subsided.  I could once again have a dialogue with God.  I thanked Him for being patient with me when I couldn’t pray and couldn’t talk to Him.  I asked for healing and also ability to focus on the passage.  Spending four hours there at the coffee shop helped calm me down and move me back to feeling grounded again.

Throughout the day, I felt so loved as many friends checked on me.  You know who you are.  Thank you ladies for being there for me.

While I was still at the coffee shop, Bob messaged me and asked if I wanted to take a trip during our Christmas break.  We originally weren’t going to plan a trip anywhere because we were anticipating our first ultrasound to be the week of Christmas.  Now that we don’t have such an ultrasound planned, Bob would like me to have something to look forward to.  I looked into a few options.  At first to a place about two hours away.  Bob wanted to go even farther away.  A town next to the ocean on the central coast caught my eyes again.  A friend recommended it, so I called the hotel she stayed at and asked for the rate and availability.  We are all booked and will go away for a few days to spend time with each other next to the ocean.

My behind endured what I anticipated to be the last jab of the progesterone needle for this cycle.  Bob did it with such precision that he would be ready for ten weeks of this come the next cycle.  I was defiant and didn’t change my estrogen patches.  I just hoped and prayed that my number started to go down so we could have closure and move onto the next cycle.


Wednesday December 9, 2015

Second beta day.  I woke up finding everything meaningless.  The beta draw was.  The work day was.  The only thing that I looked forward to was to come home and make dinner.  I needed something mindless and productive.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape my work duties.

My only prayer for the day was for God to give me strength as I was weak, and to sustain me throughout the day.  He answered my prayer beautifully.

There were significantly more people waiting for their blood draws.  I waited for at least 20 minutes.  I had no questions for the phlebotomist.  When I saw a pregnant woman at the hospital, I just couldn’t stand it.  I felt like I was just going through the motion today.  Arriving at work, I wanted to isolate myself.  I had a really hard time being friendly with my coworkers.  I just wanted them to leave me alone.

After my first client, I started to feel a little better.  The on-call OB/GYN who covered for my own doctor didn’t email me my second beta like what my own doctor did.  I called the number provided for me.  I was expecting an advice nurse but instead I got a health plan representative.  Without much feeling, I asked him to check my lab result.  I doubt he knew what bHCG stood for.  He read me the value.  I thanked him and hung up.

My second beta came back at 6.

I was glad that it went down.  I was afraid of beta hell.  I know that the progesterone might have prolonged the life of the embryo.  My nurse told me that I could stop all the meds, but would like me to get a third beta done until the value goes down to zero.  I do find that an overkill.  She wanted me to get the beta on Friday, but I asked for Monday so the chances of it going down to zero would be higher.  This is the on-call OB’s response to my request:

Usually at a level of 6, we would consider that basically equivalent to negative or zero, but I can understand how others might want to make sure the level goes down further. I have placed another order for a bHCG lab to be done, and I think Monday 12/14 is fine.”

This is the plan.  We stop meds today.  I hope for my period to come soon.  The second day of my cycle, I will start birth control pills again.  Once we have that started, my nurse can work out a calendar for us to have a frozen embryo transfer some time in January or February.

I like it that we have a plan.  However, my nurse is still trying to find a time for me to meet with Dr. NN.  *Sigh*

After getting the second beta result, guess what fun activity I had planned for myself?

My monthly presentation to pregnant women at noon.

My heart was just not there.  As I prepared for it, the words on the page were jumping up and down.  I just didn’t know how I could do it today.  But there was no calling out sick.  No escaping.  That was why my prayer was for God to sustain me.  And He answered my prayer.

There were twelve pregnant women there.  I would say that my presentation today was one of my best ones.  I was clear, precise, funny, and got all of the ladies’ attention.  They answered my questions and participated in the discussion.  It was a success.  It is just amazing how the human mind could block out all of my personal tragedies and focus on what needs to be done in the moment professionally.

After that was accomplished, my day went well.  I was once again being able to focus on the kids in the afternoon.  I felt more normal.

God was really sustaining me.

And then I saw my dear friend Elisha’s post on Fac.ebook:

Sometimes I get tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of praying. Tired of being hopeful. Tired of walking by faith. Tired of being positive and joyful. And sometimes, tired of reminding myself that His plans are better than mine. But it’s in those moments when I’m tired and I just want to give up, I remember this verse…“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.” ~Galatians 6:9 And friend, it’s that last part that gives me the push…the drive… the strength…and the hope to keep on keeping on. I pray tonight that it does the same for you.”

Such a wise lady.  It was exactly how I felt. Tired of all these things.  But I too hope that this bible verse also gives me the push, the drive, the strength, and the hope to keep on keeping on.  This message just came right at the exact moment I needed it.

So we move on to the next step.  We close this chapter and let our healing begin.  I have hope for the future again.

MicroblogMondays: Remembering Our Due Date – Year Two


Right now is Sunday evening, my usual time to think about what to write for my Monday post.  This thought of writing about our due date has been in the back of my mind.  If our brief pregnancy with Clay and/or Eli (the two embryos that we transferred back in February 2014) had worked out, our due date would have been October 29, 2014.  I think about the pregnancy once in a while.  I haven’t been overly sad about it.  Tonight, Bob just asked if I was going to write a blog post.  I said Yes.  He asked about the topic.  I said, I want to write about the due date.  I don’t think he is as mindful about it as I am.  He asked me what it was.  I told him October 29.  About the same time as Turtle’s daughter AJ.   Earlier this evening, we just enjoyed looking at the cute photos of AJ’s first birthday on Fac.ebook.  He said, “Wow, if it had worked out, our baby would be turning one year old.”  Yes that’s right.  Then he went on to say, “Oh maybe our baby would refuse to put on his pajamas, just like T.”  T is our friends’ 9-month-old baby with whom we just visited and played yesterday.  We witnessed how he fought over putting pajamas on after his bath and found that to be the cutest thing.  All of a sudden, this vivid image was formed in my head, of something that would never materialize.  We would never be able to casually chat about this child who existed in my womb for a nano second, about how he/she loves to take a bath, giggles like crazy when we play peekaboo with him/her, or how juicy his/her thighs are.  This child would just be a passing thought, an idea that probably no one would ever remember, except me (and maybe some day Bob).  Even if we are blessed with another child following a successful donor egg cycle, there is still a very tender spot in my heart reserved for this child that we lost and what could have been with him/her.  I went from chatting and laughing with Bob, to suddenly having my eyes full of tears.  I hadn’t cried about the loss of my one and only pregnancy in a very long time.  Tonight feels very fitting to think about this life that was too short.  Tears kept streaming down.  Bob didn’t seem to know what to do.  He was afraid that it was something that he said.  I assured him that it had nothing to do with him.  It was about time I got emotional about it.  A long tight hug did make me feel better.  I haven’t forgotten.  The sadness is still there.  I think I will remember this baby for a really long time.

I look forward to one day when we will have a chance to share with our rainbow baby all about this sibling that we couldn’t bring to this world.

MicroblogMondays: Order and Healing


In this journey, it’s inevitable that we’ll encounter a time that requires healing to move on.  Unfortunately, this Thanksgiving weekend once again called for such a time.  My emotions recovered rather quickly after the initial blow of a failed fertilization.  We attended my brother’s thanksgiving dinner and socialized with others as if nothing major had happened.  However, when late night came, the heart-wrenching feeling returned.  Despite that, I did not lose any sleep.  I woke up refreshed but immediately was reminded of the fact that we would not be receiving a day-two embryology report.  I had a strong urge to do something mindless and productive.  So this is what I did:

photo 1

photo 2


Standing in the sunlight-infused kitchen, I replenished my spice containers and filled spices that were not already labeled in new containers.  I lined them up in my spice cabinet.  Seeing all my spices neatly displayed somehow brought the  much needed order in my life and allowed the first moment of healing to take place.  It may sound strange to find comfort in spice jars but that was exactly how I felt.  I needed order.  I needed control.  And this was what I could control in my life the day after receiving bad news.

Onwards and upwards.


(Food also brings healing.  This is a picture of the three-month belated birthday brunch for my niece’s sweet 16.

photo 3

Huevos Rancheros, duck confit egg benedict, and creole crab cake with eggs.)

Missing Clay and Eli

Today, I miss Clay and Eli, our precious embryos that were lost.  I actually hadn’t thought about them in a while.  When I do think about them, I don’t usually get overly emotional.  I think for a little, then my thought would pass.

But today.  Today was a little different.

A friend of mine had success with her first IVF.  She transferred a blastocyst and a morula.  One of the embryos became her 18-month-old daughter.  The toddler is a beautiful girl and I can’t be happier for my friend.  From the batch of embryos that fertilized in that cycle, there was one that was growing slowly.  It turned into a blastocyst on day six and was frozen.

When my friend wanted to try for number two, she thawed this embryo and transferred it.  Luckily, she became pregnant and is currently about 12 to 13 weeks.  Somehow I am not jealous of this pregnancy probably because I just love this family so much and I love this little girl.  I really didn’t want my friend to have to go through with the anxiety of a fresh cycle and waiting for the embryology report.  It’s a wonderful thing that the embryo implanted.

I always thought that the embryo was a morula on day five and turned into a blastocyst on day six.  I was told by her today that it wasn’t even a morula on day five.  It somehow grew into a 5BB blastocyst on day six.

Today after dinner, I told Bob that this friend’s embryo was just like any other ones that they had.  Not even a morula on day five.  Somehow it miraculously became a blastocyst, attached to the uterus, and is now a baby forming inside my friend.  I commented, “What a fighter this embryo was.”

Bob said, “Just like our Clay.  Clay was a fighter.”

I was in the car while Bob was driving.  Tears started streaming.  It wasn’t because of my friend’s pregnancy that hurt.  Bob’s comment just touched a special spot in my heart.  It was so raw.  It was almost like I could feel the touch on that tender spot in my heart.  Sometimes I wonder if I am cold blooded because I don’t always get emotional when I think about Clay and Eli.  But today, I am again grieving the loss of these embryos.  My babies that tried so hard to hold on… but gone forever.

Bob held my hand and let me cry for a while. He apologized for making me sad.  I assured him that it had nothing to do with what he said or with my friend’s pregnancy.  I just needed a moment to grieve those lives that were lost.  And that was the right moment.

Sometimes we need that moment to just stop what we’re doing and think about the past.  Then we move on again.  I think this is part of healing.

My husband drove me to a restaurant, stopped, and bought me bread pudding.  The sweetness of both his action and the bread pudding more than made up for the sad moment for today.

I do have a wonderful husband.  Having him makes this journey easier.